Chapter 42
I knock on the bathroom door after thirty minutes. She doesn’t usually take this long in the shower, unless she changed her mind and decided to soak in the tub instead.
The silence on the other side of the door stretches too long.
I knock again
And again.
By the third knock, an uncomfortable knowing settles in my gut. I push the door open.
Steam fills the room.
The shower’s on, but it’s empty, no sign of Erin nearby.
I step inside the stall and shut the water off. Then I turn, my jaw clenching at the breeze that blows in through the open window.
She jumped out of the fucking thing.
The. Little. Troublemaker.
I storm into the bedroom and grab my phone. I swear, this girl’s going to give me an aneurysm one day. I tap her contact. The call barely rings before it cuts off. I grit my teeth and dial again.
She declines the call a second time.
I wouldn’t test me if I were you, Bookworm.
I inhale, forcing myself to stay coolheaded and dial again. This time the call rings longer.
When she answers, I keep my voice controlled. “Where are you, sweetheart?”
“Night Owl is a little busy right now.”
I close my eyes. “Oliver, why do you have Erin’s phone?”
A deep, amused laugh rumbles through the receiver. “You know the rules, Pretty Boy. No phones on the ice.”
“What is she doing on skates?” I ask, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Giving us a lap dance,” he volleys back too quickly.
I let out a growl. Oliver laughs harder.
Prick.
“She’s getting out some energy. And to be perfectly honest.” His voice dips into his usual cocky territory. “She could use a new teacher. She’s a little wobbly but taking it slow. I’m happy to help, considering the fastest player in the league is...”
“Oliver,” I warn, tone clipped.
He chuckles, pleased with himself. “She’s trying to find her normal again. If you want her off the ice—fine. You know where she is. Come get her, Pretty Boy.”
He hangs up a second later.
I get to Great Lakes fast and am immediately told to gear up. I don’t argue, just head into the locker room, finding everything laid out for me.
Minutes later, I’m suited up and heading out. The cold air hits, noise surrounding me.
And then, her presence catches my attention.
She’s a tiny whirlwind in my jersey, skates cutting the ice as she runs drills. The cold fog curls the ends of her hair. It’s comical and perfect, and the flush in her cheeks from working hard makes her look ridiculously adorable.
Coach Avery appears beside me, clipboard in hand.
“She’s lasted longer than I thought.”
I look at the sheet of bets.
The motherfuckers.
These guys are millionaires, and they bet literal dollars.
Cheap bastards.
I push off the boards and glide over to Erin. The guys part for me, grinning like the traitors they are. She reaches the last cone, does a little shimmy, and turns. When she spots me, her whole face lights up. My skates nearly slip out from under me.
She’s beautiful.
I circle her, my eyes never straying as all my frustration fades away.
She giggles. “Looking solid, Eighty-Seven. I was worried for a second that I’d need a new favorite to watch.”
I scoop her up and glide across the ice to the boards, setting her gently on the ledge, hands braced on either side of her.
“I’m sorry I’ve been smothering you,” I say quietly, “but jumping out of the window was a little extreme.”
“I know it was dumb.”
“Then why’d you do it, baby?”
“You’ve been taking care of me since before my mother showed up. After everything happened, you’ve been watching me twenty-four seven. I don’t even think you sleep.”
I try to stop my lips from curving up.
It’s hopeless.
“I like watching you.”
Her lips twitch.
“You could have just told me it was too much. I’d listen. I’ll always listen to what you have to say, sweetheart, and I’ll always hear you.”
“I didn’t know how to say it without sounding ungrateful,” she whispers. “I thought I could show you. Last night when I tried to cook you dinner, you threw me over your shoulder and sat me on the sofa caveman style. Any other time—hot. But it made me feel pathetic.”
“Baby, nothing about you is pathetic,” I murmur
“We can’t put our lives on hold because of a bullet.”
I kiss her forehead because she’s right.
“These last few weeks of waking up with you, eating dinner together, and falling asleep next to you… It’s felt amazing. Right. I didn’t want it to end.”
“It’s not going to end, Chase. I’m right here.”
A jolt of electricity lights up my body.
“I guess,” I admit. “I thought as soon as you didn’t need me anymore, you’d go back to a place that’s not where I am. And I wasn’t ready. So, I’ve been trying to keep it from happening.”
“Chase,” she whispers, cupping my cheeks gently. “You’re so deeply woven into my life that I’m always going to need you. You’re my everything.”
My heart fucking leaps.
It’s not the three words I’ve been dying to hear, but it might as well be.
Her love is in everything she does. That smile she gives me that I know is only mine.
When she reaches out to me for comfort. When her eyes linger on me and her cheeks flame that beautiful shade of pink because she’s been caught.
Every glance, every touch, every little habit she has—echoes those three words.
“Okay,” she says, bringing my attention back to the moment. “How about we compromise? Let me cook dinner tonight. You stop holding your breath every time I move, and I promise no more jumping out of windows. No moving out.”
I grip her hips, drawing myself closer.
“Sweetheart, be really clear with your words,” I murmur. “Are you saying you’ll move in with me? Permanently?”
“If that’s what you want, then yes, Eighty-Seven. I’ll move in permanently.”
I grin and slam my mouth to hers, kissing her like she’s the oxygen I need to breathe. When we break apart, she’s breathless.
“I’m yours, Chase,” she whispers against my lips.
“And you’re mine.”
When she leans in to kiss me, for the first time in weeks, there are no what-ifs or maybes looming. In this moment, it’s just us, holding on to each other.
Coming home with Erin after my first team practice in weeks is close to winning the damn lottery.
She’s staying.
Not for her recovery.
Not for a few weeks.
But because she wants to be here permanently.
On the drive back, she filled the journey with her thoughts of leaving W&B, taking The Bookworm Project with her, and turning her place into a miniature agency now that she’s moving in with me. Her eyes lit up at every new idea. Even with the different legal issues, she was excited.
And now, leaning in our kitchen doorway. She hums with contentment unpacking groceries she refused to let me carry.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” I say, folding my arms. “You want me to bring in the rest of your stuff from the truck?”
She glances back, tossing her hair into a messy bun. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thank you.”
I wink at her and head out.
Forty-five minutes later, everything’s inside. I shower, change, and return to the kitchen to find Erin perched on the island stirring a pot of red sauce with a book in her hand.
“Smells amazing,” I say as I take her in.
Her cardigan slips down her arm naturally, exposing her dewy skin. Her eyes flick down my body. I’m in sweats and a T-shirt, my feet bare. Her lips part slightly in a way that makes my extremities tingle.
She loves me in casual clothes the best.
“See something you like, sweetheart?” I tease, stepping between her legs.
The muscles in her neck tighten for a moment, like she’s trying to force something down. She shifts her attention back to the sauce. “You wanna taste? Tell me if there’s anything missing?”
I grab a clean spoon and dip it in before dragging it slowly across her lips.
She gasps.
The spoon clatters behind me, forgotten.
I lean in, brushing my lips against hers and tasting the sauce from her mouth. I bite her lip, and her moan vibrates against mine as I pull her closer until she’s flush against me. She wraps her legs around my waist as I lift her off the island and settle into a chair with her straddling me.
My fingers thread into her hair, tilting her head back. I kiss down her neck, sliding my hand under her shirt. Her skin pebbles underneath my touch. Her cardigan slips to the floor.
“Tell me to stop,” I whisper against her ear.
“Mmm?”
I chuckle. She’s half gone already. I love being able to make her melt this way. Her glazed eyes meet mine.
“Tell. Me. To. Stop.”
“No.”
I groan and kiss her again, cupping her face as I devour her. She smooths her hands over me, pulling herself closer to my length.
When she whispers, “Touch me, Eighty-Seven.” I nearly lose it.
“Fuck, baby. You don’t ever have to beg for that.”
My hands find the clasp of her bra.
And then the doorbell rings.
My hands still and I freeze.
Her eyes widen, her breath hitching like she’s just remembered a forgotten moment.
“No, you did not.”
“I-I invited them to dinner.”
I stare at her. “Bookworm, tell me you’re joking?”
She winces. “I didn’t think they’d actually come.”
The bell rings again. And again. My assumption is that Oliver is being impatient.
I drop my head to her neck and slide my hand out from under her shirt.
“Hellllooooooooo,” Oliver’s voice slips underneath the front door.
Erin giggles and slides off my lap. Her eyes drop to my crotch, then dart away, her cheeks flaming.
“Sorry about…that,” she murmurs, grabbing her cardigan. “Do you want to, uh, take care of that privately while I let them in?”
I stare at her, half wanting to laugh but caught in disbelief.
This. Girl.